In the arms of a murderer
by PizzaShapes4Life
Summary: During the final battle at Hogwarts, something goes terribly wrong, and Hermione is sent back in time and into the arms of a murderer. "You are mine, nobody elses, just mine." Lemons in future chapters
1. Checkmate

**Hermione P.O.V**

We had all been preparing for this day. From the moment Harry had come back from the graveyard dragging Cedric's dead body behind him, we knew we would have to fight _him_ and his followers. One of them would die that day, that death would be the decider, would the darkness triumph and rule under Voldermort or would the light win and the world return to happier times? The chances were as even as a coin being tossed. By the time the sun rises in the morning we will know. The final battle had begun.

I wasn't sure what it was that alerted me to the fact that someone other than me and my dorm mates was in the room with us, maybe a sixth sense developed hunting for horocuxes, but what ever it was I knew someone was in the room. The heavy breathing coming from the end of my bed was proof of that. I could feel them shift position and start to move closer towards, moving round the side of the bed, I pretended to still be sleeping throwing in realistic sighs and snores every few seconds.

I knew my wand was on my side table but the intruder was between me and my wand he would get to it faster that me, my only other option was the long hunting knife I kept hidden under my pillow. He was moving closer now; leaning over me. I could feel his hot breath on my face; it smelt of alcohol and food.

Before the man could register what was happening I grabbed the steal handle of the knife and swung it round, imbedding it in his stomach, the guttural groan that came from his mouth proved that I had hit my target. Throwing back the covers before he could react, I jumped out of bed and acioed my wand to me, using the wandless magic I had been practising.

"Stupefy" I cried at the black cloaked figure. The man hit the ground of my dorm rooms startling the other girls in the dormitory awake. I moved slowly over to him, gasping as I saw his cloak and mask, he was a death eater.

They were in Hogwarts, this could only mean one thing, the last battle was happening.

Oh my God, Harry and Ron, did they wake up in time!

"Stay here and make sure he doesn't wake up" I cried to the four other girls who looked on, shocked and startled, at the death eater who had only moments before been watching them sleep. I ran to my trunk and pulled out my knives, sliding them into the holsters on my back ankle and hip, I was ready for battle.

A few years back professor Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea for us to learn how to use swords and knives for our protection as it would be the last thing the Dark Lord would be suspecting. Three times a week Harry, Ron and I would go for fighting lessons with Professor Snape, Harry and Ron gave up pretty quick but I kept at it and can now fight with swords.

Not waiting for a reply I ran out of the room silently thanking the gods that no other death eaters lurked in the shadows of the Gryffindor common room. I cursed myself for not wearing sensible pyjamas to bed, why did I have to wear a night dress, a white silk one to add.

BANG…"stupefy" I heard someone call, it came from the boys dormitory.

Sprinting up the stairs I ran into the boy's dormitory only to be met with a scene of battle. Ron was busy fighting two death eaters while Harry had his hands full fighting three.

No time to stop and think.

"Everte Statum_" (by the way that is a spell in Harry Potter, type it into Google if you don't believe me.)_ One of the death eaters Harry had been battling with was hit and was sent flying in the wall where he proceeded to slump on the floor, unconscious, one down four to go.

Everyone turned round then to try and see who had cast the spell. Not wasting any time I cast Immobulus on the two death eater fighting with Ron each one froze and hit the floor with a satisfying bang. Harry had already finished off both of his attackers.

"Come on" cried Harry jumping over the bodies of the death eaters and sprinting down the stairs towards the portrait of the fat lady. Ron and I took off after him running out the door and past the common room.

It was cold outside the common room and once again I wished I had worn something more sensible to bed instead on the skimpy and revealing night dress, it was barely mid thigh with a plunging neckline showing off ample cleavage, not to mention it was partly see through. "Well, this will definitely distract the death eaters when I'm fighting," I thought to myself.

Harry was waiting for us at the portrait of the fat lady, "Where to now, Harry" asked Ron, his freckled face pale with anxiety.

Harry turned to Ron, "Use the fire in the common room to alert the order" Ron nodded and ran back inside the common room, "Hermione, have you figured out how to use the spell yet?" I immediately knew which spell Harry was talking about I nodded. "Do you want me to use it?"

"No" shouted Harry "you will not use, do you understand me, you keep yourself safe, you are not going to sacrifice yourself to save me."

I nodded again and asked "Where will the main fight be happening?"

"Great hall?" Harry asked after a moments thought. I turned to start running down the moving stair case when Harry grabbed my arm and led to a secret passage that Fred and George had told him about.

As I walked down the poorly lit stairwell I focused on repeating the incantation for the spell Agamendos. I was going to use it no matter what Harry said but I wasn't going to just use it on Harry as he thought, but on everyone I knew and loved who had fought on the light side. I knew it was dangerous; this spell had never been used before and everything about it was theory with no sound evidence of how it worked.

I had found the spell in the restricted section of the library when I was hunting for the last Horcrux, the spell was a life giving one which was partly why it was so difficult. In theory, the person who recites the spell needs to think of a person they love and want to save from death when that person dies the person who recited the spell dies and gives their life to the person who is dying. Not many people out there are so selfless that they would die for another no to mention that the spell was so strong even I had struggled with learning the different words and spells that need to be recited at the dying person's death bed. I decided to change the spell, though. I wasn't just going to save one person; I would save all of them everyone who had fought for our side that I know or have heard about will be bought back to life.

I made a few alterations to the spell and applied it to Harry so if Harry was to die I would give my life to save his and everyone else that had died fighting. I repeated the words over and over in my head "acer bitas adnu ulticu lusot ur bati strenuus sese**" all the while **thinking of all those that I love, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Dumbledore, Fred and George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Lupin, Mad Eye Moody, Tonks, James and Lilly Potter, Luna, Neville and his parents, Snape, Sirius Black and Professor McGonagall. These names went round and round my head with each incantation of the spell.

Soon we were getting ready to step out behind the tapestry of the mountains of Trolls "Harry, wait" I called; he stopped and turned around to look at me.

"Hermione, what is it, you're not scared are you? You can do this, you're the brightest witch of your age and I believe in you"

"It's not that Harry I just want to tell you before we go out there you're my best friend and I love you like a brother" I ran and hugged him.

"You to Hermione" he whispered in my ear. "Now come on we've got a war to win."

We looked at each other and grinned, this was it, the decider, and we knew we could win. Harry burst out of the tapestry first and immediately shouted "_Sectumsempra_" which hit a death eater battling with Professor McGonagall. The professor didn't turn around to see who had helped her but continued battling with another death eater who had taken their place. Casting a quick Protego Horribilis on myself and Harry I ran out into the centre of the battle to help with Neville who had been fighting two death eaters at once.

"Stupefy…stupefy" I cried and the spell hit its mark, knocking the death eater back while the second death eater blocked it and sent a stinging hex in my direction, it was too late to cast a shield so I jumped out the way and was face to face with Draco Malfoy, who from the look of his wand movements was about to stun me "stupefy" I cried and Malfoy crumpled to the ground unconscious.

I hope the order get here soon I thought looking round, the death eaters majorly out number us.

"Expelliarmus" I heard it too late and my wand was ripped out of my hand by an unseen force, I quickly looked around to see who had cast the spell, my eyes rested on the sneering Bellatrix Lestrange "look at that, the mudblood has come out to play, crucio" she screamed at me I dodged the spell and reached behind me to un-sheath my dagger intending to throw it at her when I head a scream from behind me.

"This Bitch is mine Hermione" it was Molly Weasley, the order had arrived. I acioed my wand for Bellatrix who was to busy fighting with Molly to realize and took off running to help Remus and Tonks who were battling 7 death eaters between them. Still holding my dagger I threw it at back of one of the attackers. It hit the man's back knocking his mask off and reveling the platinum blond hair of Lucius Malfoy.

"Stupefy" hisses a voice

"_Expelliarmus_" cried Harry in retaliation.

The Great hall seemed to stop, everyone turning to watch the battle going on between The Boy who lived and Lord Voldemort the final battle between good and evil had begun.

"Crucio" Voldemort hissed again and Harry doubled over gritting his teeth in pain but determined not to cry out. Lord Voldemort finished casting the spell and as Harry kneeled there doubled over and panting from the pain he cried out to all, "this is your savior, this stupid boy who can't even defend himself I will give you all one chance to change sides, all those who wish to see another day, drop your wands now."

Everything was silent not a single wand was dropped.

"Your funeral" hissed Voldemort "_Avada Kedavra" _a burst of green light shot from his wand hitting Harry chest, his kneeling form keeled over, Harry Potter the boy who lived was dead.

"Nooooo, I'm going to kill you, you bastered" cried a voice to Hermione's left. She turned to see Ginny, Harry's long time girlfriend screaming and crying, fighting to get out of the vice like grip that Ron held her on. They started to laugh then. All the death eaters started to laugh and clap and cheer and their leader was triumphant.

A strong feeling of anger, hate welled up inside me. I knew it was the Agamendos spell I had cast, Harry was dead and so the power of the spell was surfacing.

With no one to hold me back I ran towards the fallen body of my best friend, the closer I went to Harry the stronger the magic became until I felt as if it would consume me if I did nothing to help Harry.

A death eater raised his wand to cast a spell at me but was stopped when Voldemort hissed "stop, don't do anything let us watch the mudblood cry over her friend. It could be quiet amusing." The laughter that had died down after Voldemort spoke started up again. I didn't care I had to help Harry.

Kneeling down by Harry I started to mutter the words of the spell bowing my head so that no one would know what I was doing. I thought of all of those that I had lost. Placing my hands on his chest where he had been hit by the killing curse I muttered the final words of the spell and lifted my hand above his chest as what appeared to be gold smoke went from my fingers into Harry's wound. I was giving him my life and I could slowly feel it leaving my body, my heart rate slowed and my vision started to go black but I would hold on till Harry's eyes opened.

The death eaters who had been watching as the 'brains of the golden trio' cried over the dead body of Harry Potter had only just started to realize what was happening.

Voldemort realized too.

"No. This can not be happening stop her. Stop her now." He screamed in pure fury.

But I was hardly listening because Harry had opened his eyes and was starting to sit up.

"Kill him" hissed Voldemort but it was too late, placing my hand on Harry's chest the spell was complete and along with all those who were in Hogwarts who fought for the light side disappeared.

I smiled to myself, I had done it, with that happy thought, I let the darkness take over me

**Voldemort P.O.V**

How could she know that spell? It was in a book written by Salazar Slytherin but that was only a myth. No one but Lilly Potter had ever been able to perform that type of magic and yet this 17 year old girl had been able to cast one of the trickiest spells known to the wizarding world. He was shaking with anger all of his plotting had gone to waste Harry Potter had once again eluded him.

He looked around him to the fearful and angered faces of his followers, they needed answers, none of them knew what had just happened. They could wait. First he needed to make sure that the girl was dead. Walking up to her he cast a reviving spell and watched in angered fascination as she stirred and slowly opened her eyes to glare at him. She had done the impossible, she had survived.

Looking at her this close she reminded him of someone, someone from his past. No, no how could that be Hermione Vergessen had run away, she had left him. So how could she be lying here now?

She suddenly started to glow a strange golden colour and arch her back off the stone floor as if she were in immense pain as she opened her mouth to scream a flash of white and all that was left where she had been was a scorch mark, burnt into the stone beneath her.

**Hermione P.O.V**

The darkness was a comfort to her she felt safe in it. She knew she ought to be dead. Saving one person would kill you but saving countless people and then making them disappear would have killed her for sure but for some strange reason she was still alive. Far away as if heard through water she heard "revivo" no, she wanted to cry I want to stay here, maybe it had all been a dream and none of had happed but in her heart of hearts she knew that she was only holding onto false hope.

She could slowly feel her legs and then her arms slowly she blinked, only to be faced with the most feared man-if you could call him a man-in all the world but he was staring at me oddly as if he was trying to figure out a difficult wand movement. His face suddenly changed to one of shock and realization but before he could do anything I felt an excruciating pain throughout my body it felt like I was being crucioed over and over again I opened my mouth to scream but the pain only intensified and I passed out again.


	2. Oops, wrong time

Third person P.O.V.

Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't understand it. The head boy and girl were supposed to be the smartest and most hard working witch wizard in their year, but the stupid head girl had managed to fall off her broomstick and end up in the hospital wing, so he, being the head boy, had to do her patrol duty.

While she was tucked up and warm in the hospital bed with all her simpering, trophy wife best friends gossiping with her, he wandered the freezing corridors looking for any student dumb enough to roam around the school halls in the middle of winter.

If he caught any student tonight he would skin them alive, or perhaps just a simple crucio would do the trick.

As he walked along the bitter passageway Tom's thoughts returned to the potions essay that was due the next day. He had done it of course and would most likely be top of the class. Again.

But, there was always room for improvement. He was just thinking of adding another paragraph about the properties of wolfsbain when he rounded the corner.

Lying in the middle of the corridor was a girl in the skimpiest piece of clothing he had ever seen. It was only when as walked nearer that he noticed the pool of blood surrounding her unconscious body.

In moments like this, the good people of the world would dash forward to try and help this poor, helpless girl, but Tom Riddle was most definitely not a good person, he was bad to the bone.

He was busy deciding whether to just leave her here, or to cast a disillusion charm on her so that no one would find her when he heard footsteps.

Great just what he needed, someone to think that he did this to the girl, the only option left was to act like an innocent bystander.

Being careful not to get blood on his school robes Tom Riddle knelt down by the girl and whispered just loud enough for the person walking along the passage to hear, "Oh my God."

Shouting this time he called out, "help, somebody help!"

The footsteps were louder and faster now running towards him. Albus Dumbledore rounded the corner in his bright, colourful robes looking puffed at his short run through the stone passageway. Great thought Tom, Dumbledore would never believe that he had nothing to do with this, the old fool was desperate to get him expelled for some reason or other.

"Oh dear Lord," Dumbledore whispered as he took in the sight of the girl on the ground. "Tom," he said quickly go alert Medi-witch that we have a sever case coming into the hospital." Dumbledore's usually cheery voice was low and urgent. Tom stood up and took the short walk to the Hospital wing, alerting the young stout medi-witch of the strange girl who would be needing urgent attention.

As he turned to leave professor Dumbledore ran in carrying the girl in his arms. Tom was heading towards the large oak door way when he heard the medi-witch say to professor Dumbledore,

"Dear God Albus I have never in all my years if training seen so many dark curses used on one person, I don't even know the name of half of these."

This spiked Tom's interest.

Medi-witches were trained to know every dark curse invented, and yet here was this girl who had suffered dark curses that even the medi-witch didn't know of.

Interesting.

"And look at all this blood, it looks like she's just stepped off a battle field" the Medi-witch continued. "She's been tortured to."

"Can you help her?" asked the professor.

"I can try," replied the medi-witch doubtfully.

Un-noticed, Tom continued to watch both the professor and the elderly medi-witch working over the unmoving body of the girl. For several minuets they worked casting spells and feeding her potions until they both pulled back faces sombre.

"All we can do now is wait, and hope," whispered the professor.

After waiting for several moments while the medi-witch and professor cleaned up and departed, Tom left the shadows and walked up to the girl.

Up close Tom Riddle realised that she was very small and petite, she would probably only come up to his shoulder, if that. Her hair, now clean of blood and grime, was a beautiful chestnut colour that rolled down her shoulders in curly waves. Her blood red lips contrasted with her porcelain white skin, in truth she had beauty, but a natural sort, not plastic and fake like the other girls in the school.

His pale hand slowly reached out to touch her cheek. Expecting it to feel cold and lifeless, he got a shock at the warmth emitting from her skin.

Tom watched in shocked fascination as her eyes slowly started to blink open, quickly he walked back into the shadows, not wanting to be caught staring at her.

The girl slowly sat up and stared around her in confusion. Then she pinched herself, 'odd', he thought, then she started muttering to herself, 'this girl was clearly deranged' Tom thought to himself.

With slow, shaky hands she pulled back the covers of her iron hospital bed and attempted to get out and stand which resulted in her collapsing on the ground.

Tom smiled to himself, she was obviously weak just like every other girl he had met at this school. He expected her to just sit on the floor and cry, waiting for someone to come and carry her back to her bed, just the sort of thing women did.

~.~

Hermione had awoken to the feeling of someone stroking her cheek but when she went to sit up she saw no-one.

'Odd', she though 'I could of sworn I felt someone touching me.'

Shaking off the feeling of being watched Hermione looked around and realised that she was in what appeared to be the hospital wing.

Harry and Ron.

Her first thoughts were for her two best friends, did the spell work? Were they okay? Where were they now? And more importantly, where was she? If it was Hogwarts after the final battle, the hospital wing would be littered with wounded and dead, but there was no-one in sight.

'Maybe, I'm dead,' thought Hermione and pinched herself just to be sure.

"Okay, first things first" Hermione whispered to herself, "I have to find Harry and Ron but before that I have to figure out where I am."

Pulling back the papery sheets she slid her legs over the edge of the bed but when she tried to stand her legs gave out under her and she collapsed to the floor, 'not a very promising start' she thought to herself.

Hermione wouldn't give up though. Grabbing hold of the bed railing she pulled herself up into a standing position.

"Thank the Lord you're all right," came a high pitched voice. Spinning round quickly Hermione caught sight of an over-weight jolly looking women in a white apron who was rushing at her with her arms outstretched, seconds later Hermione was engulfed in a warm motherly hug. She would of felt safe if it weren't for the fact she didn't know this woman.

"Where are Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked before the woman could continue.

"Who dear?" asked the women, Hermione was just about to ask the question again when she was interrupted by the large oak doors swinging open to allow professor Dumbledore into the Hospital.

"Ahh, Albus look she is awake," cried the Medi-witch. Albus not Professor Dumbledore he was, he was dead, wasn't he?

"Yes Poppy, I can see that, could you please fetch the young lady some pepper-up-potion, I'm sure she'll be in need of some, don't you think?" asked Albus.

"Of course, how silly of me, I'll be back in soon," she said while trotting off out the oak doors that the professor had entered from.

~.~

From the shadows Tom watched all of this happen, he was amazed when she had pulled herself up from the ground when he had expected her just to give up. He desperately wanted to hear what she was saying to the medi-witch and the professor but from where he was standing all he heard was the occasional mumbled word and he daren't go closer for fear of being caught.

Walking silently backwards Tom Marvolo Riddle slipped behind a tapestry that disguised a secret passage and left to return to his common room to ponder on the appearance of this strange girl.

She could be useful, from the short time that he had watched her he could already conclude that she was determined, strong willed and that she had dabbled in the dark arts all of the three things he considered to be important.

But then again, she may just be another useless trophy wife.

~.~

"Of course, how silly of me, I'll be back in soon," she said while trotting off out the oak doors that the Professor had entered from.

"Now," said Professor Dumbledore, "I think you have some explaining to do young lady. You are obviously not attending Hogwarts so how did you get into the school? We have many wards and spells protecting outsiders from just waltzing in here, so how did you succeed in passing them? " Professor Dumbledore looked at her quizzically.

"I…I…Um," stuttered Hermione, she didn't think she had heard any of what the formerly dead professor had said, she was still trying to get over the fact that he was alive and standing here in front of her. "I…I…Um," she repeated again.

How could Professor Dumbledore not remember her, she was Harry's best friend for goodness sake? Unless, something clicked in Hermione's brain, could she be, no it was to stupid to even think about but there was always a possibility

"What year is it Professor Dumbledore Sir?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it's 1944," replied Professor Dumbledore.

"1944," whispered Hermione before everything went black. Again.

Before the girl could hit the floor Dumbledore had dashed forward and caught her. Slowly lifting her, he placed her back in iron bed and started to feed her the rest of her pepper-up-potion in the hopes of reviving her. With a flutter her eyes opened.

"Back to business," said the Professor after he had made sure she was comfortable and not going to pass out again.

"You know my name, but I do not know yours," said the Professor.

"Well Sir," replied Hermione, "My name is Hermione Granger and I come from the year 1998."

"Ahh, well that explains why you fainted then," said Professor Dumbledore. "But I must ask, what are you doing 54 years in the past?" he continued.

Hermione opened up the flood gates and told the now living Professor Dumbledore everything. She told him about Harry and his story, she told him about getting accepted into Hogwarts and how she had made friends with Harry and Ron after the incident with the troll, Hermione told him all about the Philosophers Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, the Tri-wizard Tournament the Order of the Phoenix and hunting for Horcruxes and last the final battle and how she had cast the spell to save Harry.

Throughout her speech the Professor did nothing but listen and at the end he stayed quiet, turning over everything that he had just learnt, at last he said, "Well Miss Granger, it seems that the Agamendos spell called you to this time place for a reason, I will do my best to find a way to send you back to your own time, but I suspect that the you have a certain job to do and that the spell will let you go home once you have completed job.

"Thank you Professor," smiled Hermione. "What do I have to do to get back?"

"Only you know the answer to that my dear, you have to figure that out, also your time will not move forward, it will be frozen, waiting for you to return. Anymore questions?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Good now I have a question for you Miss Granger, Voldemort, you said he wasn't always called that, what was he know as before he changed his name?"

"Riddle, Tom Marvolo Riddle," hissed Hermione, her voice layered with malice.

"I may have an idea at what you are meant to do in this time Miss Granger. Tom Riddle is currently in his final year at Hogwarts and"

"I have to kill him!" squeaked Hermione.

"No, of course not my dear, bad things happen to wizards who mess with time, but I think you should try and find out as much information as you can about him, any information from his plans to his personality traits may be able to help you win the war" said Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione sat still soaking in all of information 'it shouldn't be hard' she told herself, 'just take a few note then go home, easy.'

"Which year would you be in Miss Granger?" Asked the Professor

"My seventh," she replied.

"And what house were you sorted into?" Asked Dumbledore.

"Gryffindor,"

"My house," smiled the professor, "but I'm afraid, if you want to get close to Mr. Riddle Gryffindor is not the house to do it from, when you get sorted in the Headmasters office tomorrow allow the sorting hat to see your plan, it should place you in Slytherin.

Hermione nodded taking it all in.

"My, my you look dead on your feet, I won't keep you up any longer I will visit tomorrow and we shall sort out your story and new identity." said the Professor. Standing up he moved towards the oak doors.

"Goodnight Miss Granger."

"Goodnight Professor."

As the doors closed Hermione snuggled down and tried to get some sleep, she would need it tomorrow she would start spying on the teenage Lord Voldemort, a task that filled her with dread.


	3. It fit perfectly, a little too perfectly

**I need 30 REVIEWS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER – DINING WITH THE DEVEL**

Hermione Granger, now known as Hermione Vergessen, gazed out of the ornate hospital windows and onto the field below. The cold day and sharp wind _almost_ mirrored her dark mood.

She should have, she thought to herself, been celebrating the close escape from the dark Lord or planning the next move of attack with Harry and the rest of the Order, instead, she was sitting the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, 50 years in the past, waiting for Professor Dumbledore to arrive with the current Headmaster in toe.

Ever since she had confided in the Professor the previous evening she had felt … off. Hermione knew that Albus Dumbledore was relentless when it came to Harry and Voldermorte, could he, would he use the information to change the future? Hermione wasn't sure. Underneath his happy go lucky exterior, Hermione had always been convinced that something darker and more calculating resided, planning the next move of attack.

As far as Hermione could see, there were two possible courses she could take to avoid messing up the timeline: she could trust Dumbledore not to act on the information she had given him or obliviate his memory. Hermione quickly realized that the first option wouldn't work; she knew Albus Dumbledore to well to think that he would just sit back and watch as everything transpired around him. He would have to act. That left one other option, other than obliviating him; she would force the Professor to take a wizard's oath, threatening to expose his relationship with Grindelwald if he did not comply. Hermione hated having to black mail a man she both respected and admired, but, she concluded, the consequences of her actions would be too large to comprehend if she did nothing.

Hermione was bought out of her planning by the sound of the hospital wooden doors creaking open. Hermione turned her head and recognized the jovial form of Albus Dumbledore walking towards her in dark blue robes. The colour suited him and succeeded in picking out the twinkle in his blue eyes. With every step he took towards her the guiltier Hermione felt about what she had to do.

"Good morning, my dear, I hope you slept well last night?" inquired the professor, a cheerful smile plastered across his face.

"Very well, thank you professor," Hermione courteously replied before taking a deep breath and repeating the speech she had been practicing for the last ten minuets. "Professor, the information I gave you last night was a mistake. What I told you could drastically change the timeline if it was acted upon, I therefore ask you not to use or speak about the information I gave you. I would like you to take a wizards oath, swearing that you shall not act the on what I told you." Hermione firmly finished and started at her old Headmaster waiting for his reply. If he refused she would bring his old pal Grindelwald into the conversation and force him to take the oath.

The professor seemed to realize what she was thinking because he slowly started to nod his head, "I see it is for the best," he replied in a voice that seemed to age a lifetime in only a few minutes. "When you are strong enough we shall complete the oath." He whispered staring out of the window.

"Thank you professor."

Albus Dumbledore only smiled sadly at Hermione's statement before continuing, "have you thought of a cover story yet?"

"Yes professor," she replied a small smile playing on her face.

Hermione had already realized that getting close to Riddle was going to be difficult but getting close to him while she was a muggle born and a Gryffindor would be impossible. Instead, Hermione had decided to concoct a cover story and fake identity that would allow her to get close to Riddle and gain his trust while it explained the state she was found in the previous evening.

"What is you name?" inquired the middle aged professor.

"Hermione Vergessen."

"That doesn't sound like a pureblood name"

"I come from an obscure French pureblood family"

"You have an English accent," pointed out Professor Dumbledore.

"I spent most of my life here in England, I only moved back to France when the war broke out" Hermione replied.

"Why?" questioned professor Dumbledore.

"I wanted to fight, to make a difference and to stand up for what I believe in"

"And why are did you come here?"

"My father once told me Hogwarts was the safest place to be and when Grindelwald's men attacked my camp I apparited and appeared here. I just thought of safety and ended up here."

"Who are your parents?"

"Rupert and Jean Vergessen, they died in combat last year" said Hermione quietly, trying not to think of her own parents in case she cried.

"Where were you schooled?"

"I have been homeschooled my whole life but when the war broke out my education took second place to fighting."

"Very good Miss Vergessen. That is a very believable story, am I right in assuming that parts of your story is based on fact?" inquired Dumbledore, his penetrating gaze missing nothing. Hermione sadly smiled and nodded, remembering her parents who had been killed by a Death Eater. It was a year later and Hermione still blamed herself for what happened to parents.

At that moment the wooden doors of the hospital wing opened and an old man with a friendly face entered smiling at Hermione.

"Hello my dear, how are you feeling?" asked the Headmaster in a concerned tone. It was going to be easy, thought Hermione, to have him wrapped around her finger.

"I'm good thank you, sir."

"That's good, now Albus here tells me that he found you unconscious in the charms corridor, what on earth were you doing there, you're not a student here, are you?"

At this Albus Dumbledore coughed to gain the Headmaster's attention, "if I may Armando, Miss Vergessen has come from the front line in France, she was in danger and escaped by apparition …"

Dumbledore didn't have a chance to carry on before he was interrupted by the horrified Armando Dippet "Oh my, you poor thing, how awful for you, you must be so traumatized you poor dear." For the several minuets that the Headmaster carried on like a mother hen, Hermione allowed several tears come to her eyes, trying to make her performance all more believable.

It was around this time Hermione finally understood how Voldermorte was able to get away with opening the Chamber of Secrets and killing a girl right under the Headmaster's nose, this man was a rubbish leader, he would have been better as a matron, not the headmaster.

"Armando," said Dumbledore sharply after several more minuets, "Miss Vergessen has no living relatives would she be permitted to attend her final year here at Hogwarts?"

"Of course, of course we can't send a girl who has lost so much away, you will remain here until you graduate. When the new school year begins at the end of the week we will sort you into your house and introduce you to the school." Here the headmaster turned his attention to Albus Dumbledore "there are currently a few students here early are there not?"

"Both the head boy and girl are here early as well as several seventh year students headmaster. But I do believe that the head girl was sent home this morning after a broom stick accident" informed Professor Dumbledore.

"Good, good. The medi-witch will bring you out some clean clothes to wear while I write to the trusties to see if we can get you some money for clothes, books and so forth. I'll send the head boy up to collect you when dinner is ready at about six o'clock." Armando Dippet stood and took Hermione's pale, slender hand in his one large callused one. "It has been a pleasure to meet you Miss Vergessen I only wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances."

Hermione nodded sadly in reply as he left the hospital wing. After several moments of silence Albus Dumbledore smiled and said "that was very believing Miss Granger, if you can continue to act like that, you'll be on your way home in no time. I'll send the Medi-witch in with clean clothes. Goodbye Miss Vergessen."

Hermione watched as her old headmaster departed briskly left the hospital wing. She hopped with all her heart that he was right. She really didn't want to stay any longer than was necessary.

~.~

Eight young and handsome men sat on the deep leather sofas of the Slytherin common room as they discussed their holidays. Each one vying to have the most interesting story, the most sexual encounters or the most expensive birthday presents when Tom Riddle, the head boy entered into the common room. He didn't need to look for them, the noise they were making could be heard in the dungeon. Tom slowly walked over to his followers noting with pleasure the way they all fell silent, fear evident in their expressions, when he approached.

A chorus of "my Lord" could be heard as each of the men bowed their heads in respect. The head boy didn't acknowledge the sign of respect as continued to walk towards the fire, it had been a cold and wet summer and subsequently Hogwarts was far colder than it had been in previous years. None of the men dared to make a noise as they waited for their master to speak. Tom Riddle had always been the silent type, never speaking unless he had to but his 'Knights' knew he wouldn't have walked over unless he had something important to say.

Not turning his eyes from the flickering flame Tom Riddle said in a deathly quiet voice "there will be a meeting tonight in the come-and-go room, 11 o'clock."

After a few moments of silence, the conversation resumed, in quieter and more respectful tones. No one dared asked Tom how his holidays were. Yaxely had made that mistake in their second year and five years later he still had the scars that no one, not even the medi-wizard who had treated him at St. Mungo's, could remove.

After all 'holiday conversation' had well and truly been exhausted Tom Riddle looked at the ornate grandfather clock to the left of the fireplace, it was a quarter to six, 15 minuets until dinner. He turned away from the warmth emitting from fire and faced his followers.

"Let's go."

All eight of the men quickly stood, waiting for their master to take his place at the head of the group, by the time the nine Slytherins had left the dungeons Tom was at the front of the group with Abraxas on his right and Avery on his left, this was an order that rarely changed, unless one of them angered Tom. Yaxely was at the back of the group.

Just as the nine entered the entrance hall a shout could be heard from grand stair case, "Tom, Tom my dear boy!"

Tom arranged his face into surprised interest as he started at the Headmaster who was currently waddling down the sweeping stair case. "Tom I'm so glad I caught you. Hello boys," he said when he noticed the eight men standing beside the head boy. "I was wondering if you and your friends would be as kind as to collect Miss Vergessen from the hospital wing, she's the girl you saved yesterday?"

Riddle's kind and understanding expression hid his true feelings well. While he outwardly agreed to what Dippet was asking of him, he inwardly seethed, why should he have to run around after this stupid girl, it should have been the other way around!

Minuets after the headmaster was out of earshot Yaxely, who always showed least respect, asked Riddle "what was that about? My Lord" he quickly added after he was faced with a deathly glare from Riddle.

"I found a girl unconscious in the charms corridor last night, she wasn't from Hogwarts and when the Medi-witch inspected her she noticed several curses that she didn't know of." His bored tones were laced with annoyance.

He assumed that the girl was a simpering trophy wife that had stupidly touched some dark artifact. Why else would she be hurt? Woman didn't fight in duels or use any kind of powerful magic they lived in kitchens and looked after men.

His followers remained silent whether from the shock of his recent statement or fear of him, he didn't know or care.

The large wooden doors of the hospital wing were closed when Tom Riddle and his followers reached them. Tom Riddle had a mind just to throw open the doors and drag the girl to great hall but, he reminded himself, he had created a perfect reputation for himself and one insignificant girl would not ruin everything he had worked for. Tom Riddle sharply knocked on the doors and waited for a reply.

~.~

After Dumbledore had left the hospital wing the plump Medi-witch had returned with deep blue dress and black robe. Hermione took both gratefully, her nightdress was cause for some embarrassment in her time but 50 years in the past it was scandalous. Thankfully there were enough blankets for her to cover herself in whenever anyone had entered the hospital. As Hermione stumbled into the large bathroom on wobbly legs, she was struck by how little had changed, sure there were a few more chips on the sink and bath but other than that, it looked the like same clean white room it would 50 years in the future.

Once Hermione had stepped out of her nightdress she inspected her injuries in the mirror. During the final battle she hadn't sustained many injuries but the Agamendos spell and a jump 50 years into the past had clearly taken its toll. Her body was littered with dark blue and purple bruises while large cuts criss-crossed over old and new scars but it was Hermione's insides which were causing her the most pain; she felt is if she had been kicked, hit, burnt and gutted. She really need to get some pain relief potion when after she had showered and dressed.

After Hermione had showered and applied a foul smelling ointment to the extensive catalogue of cuts on her arms legs and torso she slipped on the dark blue dress. It fit perfectly, a little too perfectly in Hermione's opinion, as she looked in the mirror and saw her tiny waist and small hips. At least she had the black shapeless cloak to hide in.

The medi-witch was waiting for Hermione when she quietly exited the bathroom.

"My, you do clean up a treat," she smiled. Hermione returned the smile a tad self-conscious. After a several awkward moments when the Medi-witch continued to smile at her, Hermione asked for some pain relieving potion.

"Oh of course, silly me you'll want something to cover those cuts and bruises too," as the Medi-witch said this she turned around and started rifling through the bottles on the trolley behind her despite Hermione's protests that her appearance wasn't that important to her. After a minuet or so the Medi-witch turned to Hermione and handed over a blue and clear bottle. "Take this one first," she said indicating the blue bottle, "for the pain and then the clear one to cover up those cuts and bruises." After delivering these words of comfort the stout woman shuffled off towards her living quarters.

Hermione carefully sniffed the blue bottle, she hadn't survived a wizarding war by just taking potions handed to her by strangers. Once Hermione had recognized both potions she swallowed and waited from them to take affect, already glad of the pain slowly leaving her aching body.

Before the potions could take full affect Hermione heard a sharp knock at the hospital door. Her stomach lurched in fear and … anticipation?

The devil had come to take her to dinner and from the sound of it, he wasn't too happy about their predicament either.

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy reading my story if you have any problems, questions or ideas PLEASE tell me!

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	4. Vergessen: To forget

VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!

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I have **proposition** for you, my dear reader. When you **review write down** a **word** or **phrase** you want me to **incorporate** into my **next chapter**. I promise to try and get as many in there as possible no matter how **weird, rude or strange** that they may be.

Dinner with the devil

The devil had come to take her to dinner and from the sound of it, he wasn't too happy about their predicament either.

After a moment or two of silence the great oak doors of the hospital wing opened to reveal a very young dark lord. A very young, handsome dark lord. As much as Hermione hated the man standing only 30 feet away, she had to admit he was good looking with his pale skin, and dark wavy hair with equally dark and penetrating eyes. But no matter how good he looked on the outside, he was still evil Hermione reminded herself.

The head boy's black and green Slytherin robes billowed behind him as he walked formidably towards Hermione. Tom Riddle schooled his features into polite interest before he stopped just meters away for Hermione. She watched his face carefully for any sign of emotion, the Voldermort form her time was unreadable but the man standing in front of her had yet to mast that skill. His face, which she supposed would look like he was interested to ignorant bystander, had anger and annoyance etched into his eyes and tilt of his brow.

Hermione's character study was cut short when object of her musings coughed and introduced himself, "It is a pleasure to see you again Miss Vergessen, I am Tom Riddle the Head Boy. I trust you are feeling better?"

Hermione's brain started to working itself into a panic, what did he mean again? Had he guessed her secret? Had Dumbledore told him? Was he from the future too? These questions and more were racing round in Hermione's head as she started charming man in front of her.

Tom Riddle watched on amused as the girl before him appeared to be working herself into a dreadful state over his simple greeting. She couldn't be stupid enough to not know how to reply, could she? Maybe she was a particularly dim-witted breed house wife he thought to himself.  
Deciding he had already wasted enough time waiting for this woman to compose herself Tom Riddle politely coughed to regain her attention.

For the second time in less that a minute Hermione was bought out of her thoughts by Tom Riddle coughing to maintain her focus. Before her panicked brain could sort itself out she asked the first question that came to her mind.

"What do you mean 'again'?"

Tom Riddle stared at her. So that was what had gotten her so flummoxed he realized.

"I was the one who found you in the corridor last night,"

"Oh," was Hermione's intelligent reply.

"The headmaster Armando Dippet, I presume you have already been introduced," he continued without waiting for a reply, "asked me to escort you to dinner in the great hall." With this he extended his arm, clearly expecting Hermione to take it.

Hermione was furious with herself, she'd been face to face with the younger version of Lord Voldermort for less than five minutes and she had already made herself seem like an utter idiot. It was high time she rectified his opinion of her. How was he going to trust her if she couldn't even answer a simple question correctly?

"I can walk very well by myself Mr. Riddle, I do not need your assistance," said Hermione.

The shock and anger Hermione saw in Tom Riddle's expression was quickly hidden by a mask of indifference before he questioned, "where are you from Miss Vergessen?"

Hermione knew she had to answer the next question carefully, "I come from France," she replied cautiously.

"In France do the men not take a woman by the hand when they lead her to dinner?" questioned Riddle, eyes still burning with anger. An anger which was directed solely at her.

Trying to cover up her mistake, of course he meant for her to take his arm this was the 40's for goodness sake, Hermione haughtily replied, "they do. But in the trenches there is no need for such formalities."

Hermione noted with annoyance how Tom Riddle's only reaction to her statement was to raise his eye brows in amusement before he replied. "And there is no need for lies here Miss Vergessen. _Girls_ do not fight, that is a _man's _job."

"I'm not lying," snapped Hermione, "_you _are obviously to pig headed and arrogant to see the truth when it stares you in the face," Hermione fumed. How could anybody be so small minded she wondered?

At this, Tom Riddle's polite façade fell for just a moment, long enough for Hermione to see his true emotions: anger and annoyance.

"I'd watch your tongue Miss Vergessen, you never know what trouble it might get you into," he hissed furiously, sending shivers up Hermione's spine. With reflexes trained by years of dueling he snatched Hermione's hand and forcefully placed on the crook of his bent arm.

"You _are_ going to allow me to take you to dinner, you _will_ not put up a fight and you _will_ not speak of what has transpired here, do you understand," he hissed in a dangerously low voice.

Hermione was just about to tell him the opposite, with several descriptive adjectives thrown in, when she was forcefully dragged from of the Hospital wing by Riddle.

When Tom Riddle had entered the Hospital Wing he had left his loyal Knights just outside of the door where they remained 15 minutes later, waiting for his return. During the time their master had argued with the Vergessen girl the Knights of Walpurgis had waited in shocked silence to catch a glimpse of the girl who had changed from the subordinate little mouse they first believed her to be, into the fire breathing dragon who was currently calling their master pig headed and arrogant.

The girl was either stupid or had a death wish, either way, thought Malfoy to himself, either way she'll be dead before term starts if she carries on like this.

It was at this moment a furious looking Tom appeared from the hospital wing dragging an equally furious looking girl behind him. As different as each of the eight knights was, they would all later agree the same thing; Hermione Vergessen was very good looking.

Yaxely would even go as far as to say she looked like a girl version of Tom with the same striking features as well as hair and eyes which were only shades lighter than the Head Boys. Of course, he made sure Riddle was nowhere in sight when he said this.

"What on earth do you think you are doing," cried Hermione indignantly. "There are laws against this sort of…" Before she could finish the Head boy had whirled round to face her. Hermione, who was unprepared for the sudden stop, barreled right into Tom Riddle's solid frame.

He had, had enough off this girl he thought, as he dragged her screaming and kicking through the corridors of Hogwarts, she was unquestionably the most outspoken and rude girl he had ever met and probably would meet if he was lucky.

At that moment he stopped sharply, full prepared to hex the girl into silence if she continued to talk. What he was not prepared for though, was for the little hellion to barrel into him, while she was too small and petite to even make him sway, he was strong enough to make her stumble backwards and loose her footing.

Hermione knew she was going to fall. 'He' had barely flinched when she had walked into him. She on the other had had staggered backwards and lost her balance. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the impact that was sure to come. Seconds before she should have hit the stone floor Hermione felt a pair of lean muscular arms grab her arm. Hermione's eyes shot open in surprise to see the handsome face of Tom Riddle glaring down at her.

She was too shocked to continue yelling at him for manhandling her. For several seconds neither moved both too surprised by his actions say or do anything.

The noise of the eight Knights of Walpurgis briskly walking down the corridor preceded the Knights themselves. The moment the first footstep rounded the corner, Tom Riddle unceremoniously dropped Hermione onto the stone floor.

As he looked down on the girl in front of him, Tom Riddle refused to notice her hourglass shape or striking good looks, choosing instead to observe her livid glare and unruly hair which appeared to mimic her personality perfectly.

When Malfoy rounded the first floor corridor he was confronted with a peculiar sight, the Vergessen girl was sitting on the floor glaring for all she was worth up at Tom Riddle, who seemed not to notice, while he smirked down at her. Somewhere behind him Malfoy heard someone, it sounded like Mulciber, call out, "already got her on her back Tom?" Both Tom Riddle's smirk and Hermione Vergessen's blush intensified at the crass comment.

Always the gentleman thought Hermione sarcastically as the Head Boy lowered his hand to help her up, still smirking. After forcefully pushing Tom Riddle's hand away Hermione got to her feet and waited for Riddle to lead the way, she still had to play the new student after all. For the second time in under an hour Hermione's hand was ruthlessly forced onto the crook of Tom Riddle's arm, this was becoming a tiresome habit. Determined not to look at the younger Lord Voldermort Hermione angrily kept her eyes focused on the portraits that covered the old stone walls.

That girl was going to pay, thought Riddle, there was no way she was going to get away with disrespecting him, especially in front of his followers. By the end of the week she would be so frightened of him she would cringe when he looked in her direction and weep if he glared at her. Oh yes he thought to himself, that girl was going to pay. Dearly.

As Tom Riddle headed towards the great hall he chose to focus on the many malicious spells he planed to try on the girl while refusing to think about how pleasant it felt to touch the insolent girl, even if it was only for a second or two.

~.~

As they neared the great hall Hermione Granger let out a silent sign of relief. She had been so sure he would curse her for her actions, she had tried to keep her emotions in check but whenever she close to the arrogant prick she couldn't help herself. Her emotions always seemed to flare up, whether they be anger or hate or distrust or hate or fear or anger, oh, and did she mention anger and hate?

When the pair was less than ten meters from the delicately carved doors that led to the Great Hall Riddle stopped and hissed menacingly in Hermione's ear, "remember what I told you before _girl_" he spat, as if being a girl was some sort of curse, "keep quiet about our little … chat."

Hermione Vergessen gave in involuntary shiver as she stepped into the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Even though the room was void of life, Hermione felt as though Harry and Ron would come bursting in any minute demanding that she help them with a potions or DADA essay, even after six years at Hogwarts they still left their homework to the last possible second or begging Hermione to do it for them.

Hermione was bought out of her reminiscing by Tom Riddle ungraciously pulling her over to one of the high backed chairs near the head of the table. After he unceremoniously pulled out Hermione's chair for her, he stalked over to the head of the table where he remained standing, staring at her expectantly. Clearly, thought Hermione as she took her seat, this was another old fashioned pure-blood tradition 'women must be seated before men.' Did they think she would topple over if she stood for a moment too long?

~.~

Tom Riddle had evidently washed his hands of Hermione as he ignored her for most of the meal, leaving the talking to his companions. Abraxas Malfoy was the first to break awkward tension.

"I hope we do not appear rude for not introducing ourselves, I am Abraxas Malfoy," introduced the blond haired man to her left. It appeared that every male Malfoy inherited the same platinum blond hair and light grey eyes, though clearly not the same manners, thought Hermione darkly, as she remembered her first, and last, visit to Malfoy Manor.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Malfoy I'm Hermione Vergessen," she replied, hoping it didn't sound as fake to him as it did to her.

"Vergessen," said Abraxas Malfoy thoughtfully, "if I am not mistaken it means to forget or to leave behind in German. Are you German Miss Vergessen?"

"To answer your first question Mr. Malfoy…" she began cautiously before she was interrupted.

"Please, call me Abraxas, I insist."

"Then I also insist you call me Hermione, Abraxas." responded Hermione before she continued where she left off. "My name is of German origin but I was born here. My parents, Rupert and Jean Vergessen, were French. We moved back to France two years ago when the war broke out." Silence met Hermione's declaration. Peking out from under her lashes Hermione noted varying degrees of shock and mistrust, this coming mainly from Riddle.

"If I may ask Hermione, wouldn't you leave France to get away from the fighting, not move towards it, all that death and blood must have been very frightening for you?" asked the tall dark haired man to her right.

"You get used to it after a while Mr...?" Replied Hermione with a small, sad smile

"Oh, do forgive me, I seem to have misplaced my manners, I am Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange." He smiled bringing Hermione's hand to his lips. Hermione tried not to shudder. How come their ancestors seem to be politer than their children and grandchildren wondered Hermione?

The 'war' conversation was soon joined by the remainder of her dinning companions who each had their own, very interesting, opinions on the war in France (Wilkes believed that Grindelwald was a female weaver) even Tom put forward a comment or too which all Knights heartily agreed to immediately.

Part way through a very interesting argument between Nott and Mulciber, Riddle turned to Hermione and asked in am eerily quiet voice.

"What do you think of the war Miss Vergessen? Do you think muggles and mudbloods should be exterminated?"

No one, not even Nott and Mulciber dared to continue talking while Hermione fought to keep her already agitated temper in check. "No I do not believe that muggles or witches or wizards who have muggle parents should be exterminated. I may be a pure-blood," she continued when Riddle opened his mouth, "but that does not make me better than any one else. People who believe that sort on nonsense are usually mad, sociopaths or indescribably stupid as well as arrogant and pig headed." She fumed, repeating the words she had called Riddle earlier.

Hermione's furious and determined eyes continued to glare at Riddle. The Head boy had trained his features into understanding but Hermione could see the furry and anger just below the surface as he began to pull his wand out from his robe pocket. He nonchalantly began to spin his wand in his right hand while he stared fixedly at Hermione.

"Are you inferring something Miss Vergessen?" he whispered darkly, his wand now pointing directly at her. Being exceedingly careful not to draw attention to her movements Hermione steadily removed her wand from its holster under the table while slowly reaching for her knife taped to her outside of her thigh. If things were going to turn nasty she wasn't about to sit back and let them happen.

BANG!

A/N: Hi everyone thanks for the reviews people sent in, they made me really, really happy. No seriously I had a massive grin across my face for the rest of day, still do in fact!


	5. A lion surrounded by snakes

**A/n: Hey guys I know I haven't put in all the phrases but they didn't quite fit in with where I wanted the story to go. But … I will put them in the next few chapters!**

"Are you inferring something Miss Vergessen?" he whispered darkly, his wand now pointing directly at her. Being exceedingly careful not to draw attention to her movements Hermione steadily removed her wand from its holster under the table while slowly reaching for her knife taped to the outside of her thigh. If things were going to turn nasty she wasn't about to sit back and let them happen.

BANG!

The sound of a small and clearly frightened house elf appearing was amplified by the ridged tension in the great hall.

The creature, dressed in a dirty tea towel much to Hermione's dismay, squeaked in fright when it noticed the long thin, black wand of Voldermort pointing at it.

"What do you want?" hissed Riddle.

"Ugh …" the incomprehensible gurgle that the house-elf emitted only seemed to fuel his anger.

"I asked you a question you worthless creature!"

"T-t-the h-headmaster w-wants Missy t-to t-ell the h-h-head b-b-boy that Miss Vergessen i-s to s-s-sleep in the head girls r-room until s-s-she is s-s-sorted"

It took less than a second for the petrified house-elf to disappear once her message had been delivered. That was all the time it took for the colour to drain from Hermione's face and an expression of disgust to cloud the Head Boy's. Clearly, Hermione wasn't the only one upset with the sleeping arrangements. Wasn't there somewhere else? Anywhere would be better than the room opposite Lord Voldermort's.

~.~

When the bell tower struck nine, Tom Riddle stood from his seat at the head of the table and walked over to where Hermione was seated. "Your room is next to mine. Follow me, unless you want to sleep here," stated Riddle in a bored tone, masking his annoyance. Without waiting for Hermione to follow, he turned and started to walk towards the main doors.

After fare welling the world's first Death Eaters, Hermione turned and followed the Head Boy out of the main hall. Lord Voldermort had evidently ditched the polite façade as he didn't bother to reach for her hand a third time. The unlikely pair made their way through the stone passages and moving staircases until they reached a large painting on the third floor.

"Password?" asked elderly wizard depicted in the floor length mirror.

"House unity" spat the head boy as if the words were poison.

As the portrait swung open Hermione got her first glimpse of the Head's common room. Because she had chosen to help Harry, Hermione had never reached her seventh year and had a chance at becoming head girl.

The room was everything Hermione had ever thought it would be and more. Book cases lined the walls and comfortable looking seats surrounded a large stone fireplace which lit up the room in a blaze of colour illuminating the oak desks and wooden paneling which covered the walls. The only draw back of the magnificent room was the colour scheme, the chairs were upholstered in green and silver while the floor was a black, even the wood desks and paneling had a green tint about them which gave the room a sickly colouring. Both the head boy and girl were evidently from Slytherin.

She was a lion surrounded by snakes. How fitting. Just as this though flitted through her mind Hermione whipped round looking for the Head Boy, only to see him lounging on one of the plush green chairs, casually twirling his wand through his long dangerous fingers.

"Vergessen, Vergessen, Vergessen" he murmured as he casually reclined on the chair, watching her every move with piercing black eyes. The wand stopped moving.

"I have some advice," hissed the Head boy, "that I expect you to heed. Learn your place and learn it fast!"

"Oh, yes?" Hermione spat back, "and where would my place be Riddle?"

Tom Riddle smirked menacingly before he slowly stood and advanced towards the defiant girl standing before him.

The Gryffindor Princess refused to back down as Riddle stalked towards her, stopping only when his chest was millimeters away from hers. Leaning forward, Tom Riddle a.k.a. Lord Voldermort pressed his mouth to her ear, smirking when he felt the petite girl tremble slightly. "Your place is underneath me, and every other male in this school Vergessen. I advise that you accept this fact."

Standing back, Tom Riddle smirked at the girl in front of him who continued to glare at him, with no apparent regard for her own safety. Didn't she know he could kill her with a silent wave of his wand, and not loose a minute of sleep over it?

"Mr. Riddle," replied Hermione in a deathly cold voice, "I don't know what kind of women you' may be used to, but I assure you, I've never been known for fitting in with the norm."

~.~

Tom Riddle could not believe the cheek of that woman! She would pay, he thought to himself, oh she would pay dearly, but first he needed more information. Rushing in headfirst was the sign of a foolish Gryffindor, not a trait shown by the great Lord Voldermort. As he stared into the dyeing flames the future Dark Lord, started planning, he would break her, leave her battered and bruised and alone. Tom Riddle chose to focus on the many excruciating and dark curses he planning to subject Vergessen to, instead of asking himself why one insignificant girl was demanding so much of his attention.

~.~

There were 138 lines in the green tinged ceiling, Hermione had counted them all and was still no closer to sleep then she had been three hours ago. Not that anyone could blame her, insulting the Dark Lord several times in one day was sure to wreck havoc on ones sleeping habits.

Throwing back her covers Hermione sat up and started to think. Pushing out all unnecessary emotions Hermione forced herself to come up with a master plan. Professor Dumbledore had told that she needed to find out vital information about Voldermort's plans and way of thinking.

First, Hermione would have to get his attention. Well, she thought to herself that was something she could cross of her list.

Following on from this, Hermione would have to spike his interest. Finally, Hermione would have to get the Dark Lord to trust her, something she didn't even know he was capable of.

The first step was easy, the second a little more difficult but still achievable. The third step, on the other hand, seemed impossible.

At best.

Pushing all negative thoughts from her mind, Hermione wriggled back under the green silk covers and rolled over. As sleep started to claim her Hermione wondered how smooth Riddle's hair was and what it would feel like to run her hands through it…

~.~

"_My dear," hissed a cold voice, "come to me."_

_Hermione complied and slowly started to walk through the mist in the direction of the mysterious voice. "I've missssed you," the cold voice continued, a hint of warmth to it this time._

_Once Hermione had cleared the fog she could see the side of a high backed chair with a cloaked figure sitting in it. "I have a gift for you …" the figure continued to hiss, as it extended a long, thin hand towards a figure lying crumpled on the dungeon floor. The figure, who was too broad to be anything but male, whimpered as he realized the attention of the two occupants in the room was focused solely on him._

_Hermione continued to stare in muted shock as the man with the cold, high voice hissed "look at me you worthless blood traitor." When the man refused to look up, more out of fear then defiance, the pale, thin hand flicked upwards slightly. This display of wandless and non-verbal magic forced the man's head backwards exposing the face of a battered, bloody and bruised man who had lost virtually everything he held dear. It was the face of Neville Longbottom. _

"_Tell me where the remainder of you pathetic friends are hiding!" Hissed the voice. The figure was evidently loosing what little patience it had._

_Still frozen to the spot, Hermione could only look on at Neville Longbottom stared into the face of his unknown attacker as he whispered one word, "never."_

_A horrifying scream erupted from the cloaked figure as he cast the killing curse, ending Neville's life with two silent words._

_Hermione stared in horror as the body of a close friend crumpled to the ground in a heap. Turning her eyes towards the only other living occupant in the room Hermione watched as Lord Voldermort removed his cloak and held out one long, spindly hand towards her. "Come my love, we have much to do."_

Hermione Grangers screams woke her from the most vivid nightmare she had ever experienced. Throwing her covers off her overheated body she sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes, willing the nightmare to disappear. A handy trick taught to her by Remus, who had many nightmares of his own to block.

Getting back under the cold silk sheets, Hermione Granger, now Vergessen closed her eyes and tried, with success to block vision from her mind, thinking instead, of happy memories of her friends and family. Several minutes later Hermione returned to a sleep plagued with nightmares. When dawn woke her from her restless sleep several hours later, she couldn't remember a single nightmare.

~.~

Compared to Vergessen, Riddle slept through a perfect and vision free night. During his many years at the orphanage Tom had been forced to rise at 4:30am every morning. Subsequently he took every opportunity to sleep in as late as possible during his terms at Hogwarts. Hermione on the other hand was the complete opposite; to her, sleeping in was a waste of time that could be spent researching. Why be lying around doing nothing when there were things to be done?

Unfortunately for her, Hermione still had to play the ignorant new student and wait for the Head boy to take her to breakfast. Even though she could have easily walked there. Blindfolded. Figuring she had an hour or so to waste Hermione started to play with her hair and clothing. Because of the war and the numerous problems she had been required to deal with, Hermione had never had much time for her appearance. It was a waste of time in her opinion but, since the head boy showed no signs of rising, and she knew better to go and knock on his door, Hermione took several minutes deciding what to do with the bird's nest that she called hair. Deciding on a loose ponytail with several strand framing her face Hermione moved onto her new wardrobe, courtesy of the headmaster.

After several frustrating minutes of rifling through the trunk at the end of her bed, Hermione realized two things. Firstly: fashion in the 40's was constricting, uncomfortable and thoroughly annoying, just like the men and secondly: everything was black or white, no colour or interest, just like the women. Deciding against the temptation of transforming the grey pencil into denim jeans and the white shirt into a bright jumper, Hermione resigned herself to looking like a trussed up chicken.

As if to add insult to her already uncomfortable and constricted body, Hermione found a small pair of black high heels at the bottom of her trunk. She thought for several seconds before retrieving her wand from the black duchess and performing the same spell she had used for the Yule Ball. It was a tricky spell, but worth it if it did its job and prevented her from falling or twisting her ankle.

Deciding the Head boy had, had enough time to rouse himself Hermione left the Head girl's bed room and entered the common room. Even in the early morning light the dark and ominous colours of Slytherin gave the room a cold and depressing feeling.

"Good morning Hermione, I trust you slept well?" came Rodolphus Lestrange's smiling voice.

Turning to face the young man sitting on the green sofa Hermione smiled and lied, saying she had slept well. Beside the tall, dark and handsome Rodolphus sat Abraxas who smiled as he looked her up and down in appreciation. It appeared all ferrets were aggravating no matter where she went.

"I do hope we do not seem forward Hermione, but Tom is a late riser and it would be in your best interest if you were to let him be," advised Abraxas. Rodolphus' shiver did not go unnoticed my Hermione.

"If you would allow it we would like to escort you to breakfast."

"Thank you, I'd never would've been able to find it by myself," replied Hermione, trying her best to look pleased and relived. If she ever got out of this alive she would demand an Oscar.

Both men stood and took hold of one of Hermione's hands as they led her out of the portrait to breakfast and the rest of Lord Voldermort's Knight's.

**Author's Note: Hello everyone, sorry it's a short one that took forever for me to update **

**I promise I will update sooner next time. Don't forget Read and Review!**

**LOts of LOve **

**Pizzashapes4life **


	6. Lost Appetite

"Thank you, I'd never would've been able to find it by myself," replied Hermione, trying her best to look pleased and relived. If she ever got out of this alive she would demand an Oscar.

Both men stood and took hold of one of Hermione's hands as they led her out of the portrait to breakfast and the rest of Lord Voldermort's Knight's.

~.~

The Great hall had changed little since the previous evening and once again Hermione found herself seated between Abraxas and Rodolphus, both of whom were eagerly telling her every thing there was to known about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although, Hermione noted with a small smile, both men praised Slytherin and its many notable members and qualities while christening the other houses as Know-it-all's (Ravenclaw), Squibs (Huffelpuff) and foolhardy idiots (Gryffindor).

Hermione couldn't prevent the indignant huff she made at this last statement.

"And," continued Abraxas completely unaware that Hermione had barely been paying attention, "further proof that Slytherin is by far the greatest house, no _mudblood_ has ever been admitted into Slytherin."

Hermione felt her whole body stiffen in reaction. Willing herself to relax, Hermione reached across the table to help herself to several rashers of succulent looking bacon. Maybe she could stop herself from hexing Malfoy by imaging the rasher of bacon she was forcefully slicing was him.

"Filthy things, mudbloods, I don't know why they let them into a magical school," sneered a tall black haired girl three seats down from Hermione.  
Hermione's bacon was starting to take on the form of a greasy pink mess, she hardly cared, her apatite had vanished the moment the other girl had opened her sneering lips.

"I couldn't agree more Eileen, more of them come in every year. It makes me sick," spat a sullen looking blond girl who, on closer inspection, appeared to share the same facial structure as her childhood nemesis. Evidently this woman would become the future Mrs. Malfoy. Maybe Hermione could kill her now and save herself seven torture free years. Too bad it would muck up the time line irreversibly.

"I think you should get your father to complain Abraxas, surely he can do _something_," sighed the sullen girl again, pouting for all she was worth, another unlucky trait Draco seemed to have inherited.

"I mean, couldn't he get Dippet to only allow purebloods and, maybe half-bloods in?"  
Hermione was starting to get second thoughts about not killing the arrogant and brainless harpy sitting opposite her.

Peeking out of the corner of her eye Hermione watched Malfoy, waiting to gage his reaction. He couldn't be so deluded by his propaganda filled upbringing that he would try to persuade the current headmaster to out law the schooling of muggleborns. Could he?

"As much as I agree with your ideas Hilda, I don't think it would work."

Hilda resumed her pouting.

Hermione secretly smiled to herself, maybe this generation of Malfoy was smarter than she had originally given him credit for.

"I must apologies for Abraxas' lack of manners Hermione my dear," Lestrange cried out ignoring Malfoy's growing scowl. "He seems to have forgotten how to introduce his friends. This is the wonderful Eileen Prince," he said waving his pale hand at the tall, black haired girl who had spoken earlier.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," muttered Prince, looking as if it were anything but. Hermione returned her greeting with a tight smile. It appeared that her potions professor had inherited his friendly demeanor, not created it as previously thought.

"And this beauty," continued Rodolphus smirking "is the illustrious Brunhilda Burke, nicknamed Hilda for obvious reasons." Everyone seated at the table sniggered, coughed to conceal their laughs or outright smirked at the sullen blond girl who giggled stupidly and hit Rodolphus on the arm, clearly not understanding the insult.

"You're so funny Rodolphus," Hilda Burke simpered while twirling a strand of her flaxen hair round her finger.

Gods if all the women of this time were like Hilda Burke, Hermione could understand why Riddle thought of all women as stupid housewives. Speaking of Riddle, where was he? Surely he couldn't still be sleeping?

Maybe Abraxas wasn't kidding when he said that the Head Boy liked to sleep late, it was almost 10:30. Granted it wasn't a school day, but still 10:30 was more than what she would call a small sleep in.

"How come you weren't at dinner last night?" Hermione asked, her eyes flitting between Eileen and Hilda. War had taught her to question everything and leave no rock unturned.

Before Eileen could finish opening her mouth Hilda butted in.

"Well, you see a couple of days ago we were playing on our brooms when Ursula, she's the Head Girl by the way, fell off!" Hilda paused, waiting for shocked gasps that never came. When Hilda realized that she wasn't going to get a reaction any time soon she quickly continued. "Anyway, her parents were so upset they came and collected her and flooed to St. Mugos to get her seen by one of the Mediwizards. Thankfully it was just a sprain, but you can never be too careful. Anyway before she was taken away she asked us, as her friends, to unpack all her clothes. We only finished at 4pm and I was so tired I decided to take a nap and Eileen came with me and read one of her stuffy old potion books."

Hermione peered around her. If the yawns and bored expressions were anything to go by she wasn't the only one who had almost fallen asleep during Burke's rant. She made a mental note to never ask the girl anything again.

"Hermione," asked Abraxas "as Tom still appears to be sleeping would you do me the honor of giving you a tour of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Despite her internal groan of protest Hermione nodded and graciously allowed herself to be helped from her chair and lead from great hall.

~.~

Hermione breathed in deep and allowed herself to relax. She was safe, she was in her haven. She was in the library. Not only was she in the library, she was alone in the library. No Dark Lords to keep an eye on, no irksome trophy wives and no Abraxas' who seemed determined to lay on the renowned Malfoy charm and flirt with her.

Out of sheer desperation Hermione had returned to favorite haunt.

Letting out a sigh of happiness she slowly walked towards the nearest bookshelf and ran her fingers over the covers of the ancient tomes.

Wandering aimlessly through the ceiling high bookshelves, Hermione went looking for her secret corner. She had found this secluded alcove at the beginning of her first year when she was trying to escape the hurtful taunts thrown at her by Draco Malfoy. Hermione found it amusing that she was once again using it to hide from a Malfoy, though for totally different reasons this time round.

Turning left by the herbology section, which was notably larger in this time then it had been in hers, Hermione found, with relief, small gap between the first bookcase that lined the restricted section and the end of the defense against the dark arts division.

Turning sideways Hermione quickly slipped through the gap and into the small study area which was complete with a hard oak desk, wall to wall bookcases and several comfy chairs. One of which was occupied.

Hermione silently squeaked as her hazel eyes landed on the elegant form of the Head Boy. Tom Riddle was lounging on one of the leather chairs, his eyes flitting back and forth as he absorbed the information stored in the unnamed book.

After several tense moments, where Tom Riddle failed to acknowledge her entrance, Hermione slowly began to walk backwards in an attempt to leave the alcove unnoticed. Seconds later, Hermione's back grazed the bookshelf that marked her escape route. Now all she had to do was slip through silently and she'd be …

"If I were you Vergessen," murmured Riddle, not looking up from his book, "I would avoid becoming a spy, you're terrible at it."

… Free

"In fact," Riddle continued, still not looking up. "Had we've been in war, I would of cursed you within an inch of your life before you even stepped foot in here, you were that loud." Riddle finally flicked his eyes up catching Hermione's in a piercing stare "and there was you telling everyone you worked for the French Resistance." He sneered. "Now off you go and do something stupid and womanly."

"No,"

"Excuse me Vergessen?" Tom Riddle said darkly. This wasn't a man who was used to being disobeyed.

"This isn't _your_ library, or _your_ study area it's for everyone," snapped Hermione firmly. "I can read here if I want to."

Riddle's lips broke into a smirked and he began to clap his hands in mock applause. "I'm impressed; you can read, well done."

"I'm not surprised you find the ability to read an impressive one Riddle, I doubt half your cronies out there can tell the difference between the front and the back of a book." It wasn't her wittiest come back, by far, but it would have to suffice in the tense and charged atmosphere of the secret, or not so secret, alcove.

Not waiting for a reply, Hermione grabbed the book closest to her, walked over to the chair furthest away from Riddle and sat down. Curling her feet under her, Hermione settled down and gently ran her fingers across the spine of the book she had picked at random. Turning to look at the title Hermione let out a silent gasp of horror and surprise.

'_Muggles and why they should be Exterminated' _was emblazoned in gold lettering across the cover of the leather bound book.

"Is something wrong Vergessen, or have you unexpectedly forgotten how to read?" smirked Riddle

"No," replied Hermione quickly, "I just remembered I promised to go down to dinner with Abraxas."

Leaping up from her chair she haphazardly shelved the book, hiding it in the cover of '_Herbology and the Theory of BoomSlang'_, before walking quickly out of the alcove. If she was lucky, Riddle wouldn't have noticed the title of the book or her reaction to it.

~.~

Riddle stared at the leather chair that had been occupied by Hermione Vergessen only moments before, as he tried to determine the reason she had left so suddenly. He knew it wasn't to go to dinner with Abraxas, that much was obvious, but why had she left?

As his gaze wandered around the small room he took in the battered spines and ruined covers on the many books that lined the walls. He had discovered the broken book room, as he called it, half way through his first year when he needed to get out and think. The small alcove was overflowing with old and battered books which had been abused by generations students and outdated by newer and more accurate books on the same topic. While most of the books contained obsolete and nonsensical information, a select few held dark curses and instructions on how to use and create even darker objects. It was in one of these books that Tom Riddle had first read about horcuxes, a subject that was fast becoming his obsession.

Could a book be the reason Vergessen had run off? Could she have picked up one of the few books on horcuxes shelved in the broken book room and seen the copious notes and questions he had written in the margins?

Getting up from his chair, Riddle purposefully walked towards the bookcase, his eyes flitting over the titles and authors. There were books on herbology theories that had been disproved, books on DADA spells that could easily be overcome and trilogy of books dedicated to the life and death of Merlin. None of the books held any incriminating evidence on him, or his future plans.

But, if Vergessen hadn't left because of something she'd read, why did she leave in such a hurry? He would have to find out.

Brushing nonexistent dust from his impeccable robes, the Head Boy strode out of the hidden alcove in the direction of the heads common room pondering the mystery that was Hermione Vergessen.

After walking for five minutes Tom Riddle began to hear quiet footsteps following him. Keeping his pace steady and his stance relaxed he turned left and waited for his unknown follower to round the corner. He didn't have to wait long before Hilda Burke came into view, stumbling back and pouting when she realized she'd been caught.

"Oh, Tom I-"

"I told you not to call me that Burke."

"Fine," she pouted.

"What do you want?"

"Riddle I was so lonely over the holidays without you, I missed you and I was wondering if we could catch up, just the two of us?" Burke began to flutter her eyelashes in an attempt to look sexy.

Why women thought blinking and thrusting their chests out made them look attractive was beyond him but, Riddle had been unable to use any of his dark magic during the holidays and subsequently needed some sort of outlet.

Maybe he had just found it. Smirking he held out his hand and asked "would you like to continue this conversation in the head dormitories?"

The stupid chit only giggled and nodded.

~.~

After escaping the library Hermione was at a loss of what to do and where to go. Everyone would be in the Slytherin common room, that included Abraxas, the library was out, there was no way she was going near her secret study area again and she had no idea what the password to the Gryffindor common room was or even if it was in the same place. There was only one option left: the Head dorms.

Hoping she could remember the route Hermione started to walk in an easterly direction towards the third floor. After three wrong turns Hermione finally reached the floor length mirror that stood guard in front of the head dorms.

"Excuse me," cried out Hermione when only her reflection was visible "excuse me please I would like to get into the common room." Seconds after Hermione's declaration the aged wizard stepped into the mirror and gave her a distracted smile.

"Password my dear?" he murmured absentmindedly

"House Unity?"

The mirror opened and Hermione gracefully walked through deciding that she was in need of a refreshing shower.

~.~

Tom Riddle was starting to regret his decision of bringing Hilda back to his rooms. All he wanted was a quick shag but the girl had hardly shut up since they started walking. "House unity" he muttered absently when they reached the mirror door.

Not wanting to listen to her incessant nattering any longer Riddle roughly grabbed Burke and pressed his lips to hers, forcing her to adapt and follow his lead. Closing the door with the heel of his dragon skin boots Riddle started walking towards one of the sofas giving Hilda no choice but to walk backwards until her legs hit the sofa and she landed on her back the Head Boy soon following her down.

~.~

Halfway through washing her hair Hermione froze. She was sure she heard the mirror door close. The only other person who knew the password, other than the teachers, was Riddle. He must have found the book she realized. He had found the book and was coming to find out why she ran away. He was going to figure out she was a muggleborn. He was going to figure it all out.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Hermione switched off the shower and quietly stepped out into the spacious marble bathroom. Making the barest noise possible she reached for her towel and wand. Creeping towards the door Hermione pressed her ear against greenish-brown wood and listened. After straining to hear for several seconds Hermione deducted that he must have left the common room.

Breathing easier Hermione opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

She froze.

The Head Boy hadn't left. He was still in the common room. Sitting in one of the green upholstered chairs directly facing Hermione was Tom Riddle looking stoic and at ease while Brunhilad Burke took his cock into her mouth and began to suck.

Thankful that she hadn't been noticed by the other two occupants in the room who were otherwise distracted, Hermione began to take a step back.

Her escape however, was hindered when Hermione's foot hit the bathroom door, causing it to click shut.

Loudly.

Whipping her head up Hermione found herself caught in the smirking gaze of Tom Riddle.


	7. Morbid Meditations

Thankful that she hadn't been noticed by the other two occupants in the room who were otherwise distracted, Hermione began to take a step back.

Her escape however, was hindered when Hermione's foot hit the bathroom door, causing it to click shut.

Loudly.

Whipping her head up Hermione found herself caught in the smirking gaze of Tom Riddle.

~.~

It was official. She was in Dante's Inferno. She had died during the battle at Hogwarts and was in hell, her own personal hell devised for the sole purpose of making her life, or death, shit.

With a capital S.

She was standing in a bath towel, her skin glistening with the remnants of her shower and her hair imitating that of an electric shock victim while she watched Tom Riddle receive a blow job from the future Mrs. Malfoy.

These events might have been bearable if she could have slipped from the room unnoticed, leaving her dignity intact. However, fate, it appeared, was having a good laugh at her expense.

Again.

~.~

The click of the bathroom door sounded like a shot of gunfire to Hermione's oversensitive ears. Her whole body tensed as her hazel eyes slowly travelled towards the pair directly opposite her on the sofa. If fate was kind, she reasoned, the couple would be too caught up in one another to have noticed the click of the door. Praying that the power of positive thinking wasn't just a myth, Hermione summoned her Gryffindor courage and looked up.

The moment the warm hazel of Hermione's eyes passed over the bobbing form of Brunhilda (thankfully facing away from Hermione) and connected with the dark eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle, Hermione knew that fate was a bitch and her mother had lied when she said "positive thinking can change a predicament."

The bastard was looking at her and smirking. He was smirking, he was _enjoying_, no _revelling_, in the burning discomfort that was enveloping her body in the form of an all over blush.

His expression changed then, an almost imperceptible darkening of his eyes as his face morphed from malicious amusement to that of a challenging smirk. He was daring her, daring her to shy away from the primal act to which she was a voyeur and skulk, humiliated, back into the bathroom.

But she would not. She was Hermione Granger, a member of Gryffindor, a house where the brave of heart lay and fearless resided. It was beside the point that Riddle was not privy to that particular fact.

Thrusting her chin up (and closing her mouth which had been doing a very good impression of a fish at feeding time) Hermione attempted to walk indifferently towards the green-tinged door that lead to the blessed safety of her equally green-tinged quarters. However, the physical force of Riddle's gaze battering against her towel clad form was making it very hard for her to act as if seeing someone go down on the Dark Lord was an every day occurrence in her life.

Hermione's mind, which was usually a whirlwind of ideas, fact and theories, had stuttered and died the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Subsequently, the only though that her usually ingenious mind was capable of comprehending, was disbelief. She couldn't believe it, she simply couldn't believe that Tom Riddle, Lord-Freaking-Voldermort, was receiving a blow job in front of her.

From Draco's granny!

Dumbledore had always led the trio to believe that, while he was charming, Riddle shied away from the female population in 'that way,' choosing instead to focus on plans for mass murder and total world domination or whatever else schizophrenic psychopaths did with their spare time.

As Hermione continued to walk, in what she hoped was a casual manner, across the dark carpet, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Brunhilda was in such a position, both geographically and physically, that she was unable to take note of the other presence in the room.

As her hand, finally, reached the ornate handle of her bedroom door, Hermione made the monumental error of peeking over her shoulder at the couple behind her. While Brunhilda continued to vigorously bob up and down, her flaxen hair thankfully covering everything Hermione did not want to see, Tom Riddle remained stoic and unaffected. He stared up at Hermione from his seated position on, incidentally, the same armchair he had threatened her from the night before. Smirking as if she had made a particularly stupid or obvious observation and Brunhilda was simply kneeling down to tie up her shoe lace. In another part of Britain.

Enraged that Riddle was, correctly, insinuating she was unable to handle the situation she currently found herself in, Hermione couldn't prevent herself from leaving without the parting insult: "you really ought to be careful you know, one can never quite be sure what they'll pick up when the cavort with ... the likes of him."

The finality of her bedroom door clicking shut could not have signalled her victory better if she'd stuck her head out the door and shouted "I win this round you bastard" before doing a victory dance on the coffee table.

~.~

While livid was a strong word, one that implied fury, anger and hate in extreme levels, Tom Riddle still did not think that livid was an adjective strong enough to aptly describe his current state of mind. However, unable to pluck a more suitable descriptive word from the vast category that made up his mental dictionary, livid would have to suffice. He believed the creation of nonsensical words to fit the desired purpose to be the pass time of pathetic first years. Or Gryffindors.

After he had, quite literally, thrown Hilda from the Head's Common room, gaining more satisfaction from this action than what she had been doing with her mouth, Tom Riddle had stalked back into the living area.

No-one, _and he meant no-one,_ ever talked to him, Lord Voldermort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, like that.

Fighting the urge to blast the chit's door of its hinges, Tom Riddle relaxed into one of the chairs near the fire place, knowing that, even if he did send the door to kingdom come he wouldn't be able to enter her rooms - the result of several wards put in place after Head Boys and Girls took the job of 'joining the houses' too literally.

Pulling his wand out from trouser pocket, Tom Riddle began to twirl it in his right hand, a habit, he realised that was developing whenever furry became his paramount emotion. Funny, how it only occurred when 'she' opened her mouth.

Bringing him back to cause of his anger: Hermione Vergessen.

During their first conversation, she had managed to make him drop his 'perfect student' act, for that was all it was: an act. In the hours following that conversation she had called him a sociopath, indescribably stupid, arrogant and pig headed. And now, now she had insinuated that he contained more infectious diseases than "Isaac Irwin's 1001 incurable infections."

So far, his master plan of frightening her into submission wasn't following its intended course. It was evident, Tom Riddle realised, as his fury began to abate slightly, that he had underestimated the little chit. A mistake he would not repeat in the future. She was, he summarised, not going to cave under threats that to her, unaware of his true power, must seem empty or idle.

Yes, he smirked, his mind flicking through endless possibilities, breaking her was going to be a very enjoyable pass time.

~.~

Hermione's elation at seeing the unrestrained shock on the usually impenetrable face of Lord Voldermort had died a long time ago. It had now finished digging its own grave and was moving onto carving its headstone.

Hermione was very close to following its example.

Sighing, Hermione morbidly pondered what would be written on her headstone, she could imagine it now:

Here lies Hermione Granger/Vergessen (circle as appropriate)

Born September 19th 1979

Died September 29th 1944

Murdered because she inferred that Lord Voldermort had AIDs

The laugh which escaped her lips sounded hysterical, even to her own ears.

Taking a deep breath Hermione forced all insecurities and unneeded emotion from her mind, focusing instead on irrefutable logic and facts. Dumbledore had told her that to get home she needed to get close to Riddle and gain as much information on him as she could. But to get close to riddle she needed to ... what did one _need_ to connect with a murdering sociopath?

A love of blood?

Pain?

Torture?

Information on Horcruxes?

No.

Hermione didn't know how much or how little information Riddle had on Horcruxes, but she certainly wouldn't help him on his way to immortality. Besides, her chances of getting the Head Boy to spill all his secrets after calling him an indescribably stupid, arrogant pig with an incalculable amount of infectious diseases, were on the slim side of anorexic.

Thus bringing her back to the crux of her dilemma: she was going to die.

Painfully.

Realising she couldn't stay hidden in her green sanctuary forever, Hermione peeled herself off the double bed in search of clothes.

As Hermione tried, in vain, to find something that wouldn't made her look like the trussed up chicken she would enviably feel like, she remembered the advice her mother had given her when she was eight: nothing is ever as bad as it seems.

For a few minutes, Hermione felt lighter, until, that is, she remembered the last time she had used her mother's advice (the power of 'positive thinking,') and how well that had turned out for her.

Sighing for what felt like the thousandth time that day, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that when 'that man' was involved, nothing ever turned out the way she expected.

~.~

By the time dinner rolled around, Riddle had devised his plan to break the Vergessen chit into submission. All he needed to do now was ensure the Knights wouldn't get in the way; a talent all of them seemed to be extremely gifted with, and ensure the girl left her bloody room! She had been in there for half an hour already and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon.

Riddle tensed, he couldn't believe it, she wasn't even in the same room as him and he was getting angry!

~.~

Unsurprisingly, Hermione's courage, which had seemed unfailing when she was slipping into the crisp white button-up shirt and black pencil skirt, had disappeared the moment her hand touched the door handle. As cowardly as she knew it was, Hermione had taken extra care when dressing, hoping that the longer she stayed in her rooms the greater chance there was of Riddle leaving her in favour of dinner. However, it was nearing an hour since she had left the shower and, other than leaving to throw Burke out of the common room, Riddle, it appeared had not budged.

Nevertheless Hermione would not be fazed; she was a strong, independent witch who could take care of herself. She was the brains of the golden trio for goodness sake, she could take whatever threat or spell Riddle would throw at her.

She hoped.

Ignoring this last fleeting thought, Hermione violently twisted the door handle and threw open the door. Opposite her, no more than two meters from her position in the doorframe, was Riddle.

The low bang of the door being thrown open caused him to snap his head in her direction, mercifully putting an end to the catalogue Hermione had been making of his profile (for research purposes she told herself).

The charged atmosphere seemed to crackle with electricity as hazel stared into a green so deep it appeared black.

After several moments of this, Riddle made the first move.

"Miss Vergessen," he whispered in a low voice, the closest thing to a hiss she had heard from him since her arrival in 1944.

"It has become quite clear to me, that you do not fully understand the implications of my warning last night ..."

"House Unity"

Hermione nearly cried with relief. The signature Malfoy drawl, which Hermione had never welcomed, in any time period, suddenly gave her immeasurable joy.

She was saved!

Granted she would now have to spend time in the prejudiced prick's company, but, beggars couldn't be choosers.

~.~

As Abraxas entered the common room, dressed, in his opinion, very dashingly, he was met with a very peculiar sight. Miss Vergessen, or _Hermione_ as she had bid him call her, was standing in the doorframe of the Head Girl's quarters, looking very fetching, while Riddle sat rigid and glaring in one of the armchairs.

The cause for peculiarity wasn't, however, the position of each party but rather the tension that radiated throughout the room.

Abraxas had felt tension like this before, though on a much smaller scale.

His parents, he remembered, had exuded it once during a particularly nasty fight when his mother, in a fit of jealousy over one of his father's many mistresses, had broken a priceless Malfoy heirloom.

The expression on Malfoy Seniors face, the one now be found of Riddle's face, had perplexed Abraxas for many weeks until he had finally plucked up the courage to question his father about it.

Malfoy Senior had then confided in his son, explaining that he was "deciding whether to kill the woman, or screw her senseless on the nearest available surface."

Clearly, this same scenario was being played out before his eyes again.

**A/N:** Hello! Yes surprise, surprise I am alive! First I better apologise

*throws self on ground* I am so sorry for not writing in ... close to a year, however 2011 was a hectic year full of major exams, assignments and EARTHQUAKES!

Now that the grovelling is done, I want to say a **FREAKING HUGE thank** you to '**e97852**,' you were the one who motivated me to get working on this chapter, I'm not even kidding here, I read your review at 2 am and was so touched that I started writing it straight away. So everyone, this girl (I sincerely hope you are a girl or this could get awkward) is the one you need to be thanking for this update!

New chapter will be heading your way soon, promise.

Lucy, over and out.


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